Try Try Again
by SpiderCarvings
Summary: Minor AU of the movie. "The magic has struck so that it is tied to her memory, but also to her emotion. They are connected in her mind in impossibly intricate ways." Human magic is rare and their minds are complicated, so even the trolls don't know exactly how to heal Anna. But if at first you don't succeed... (gen, angst, mostly focused on Snow Sisters but also the King and Queen)
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Notes**__: This is a minor AU at the start, that will turn into one a little less minor along the way as Elsa and Anna grow up. That's the ripple effect for you. But it came from me imagining the characters of Frozen taken (somewhat) out of the children's story/fairy tale context, and adding a bit more historical and psychological context. The story itself is about the effects of mental trauma on relationships, and how magic and other secrets influence that further, especially in a Victorian-ish world. Which all sounds rather stuffy but basically this is a story about family._

_I'm keeping some of the anachronisms from the movie (mainly in dialogue and family interactions) because it doesn't feel quite Frozen without them, to me. Also, given that this is still a fantasy story, the psychology, especially as it relates to brain anatomy, is not going to be 100% accurate. _

* * *

><p>They heard the girls run giggling through the halls that night, of course. The royal chambers were kept separate from the bustle and noise of castle business, so at night every sound echoed. Silence, a rare quality now after the princesses' births, felt heavy in the air for only a few hours. Just long enough for Anna to sleep as little as she thought she needed.<p>

Agdar wrote letters at his desk, but heard the pitter-patter outside, louder than the scritching of his pen. He snorted to himself, and decided to order them back to bed once this letter was finished. It would mean more snow for the servants to wake up to, but it wasn't like they did anything dangerous. Even at eight, his heir was a good girl, dutiful in almost every area of life, and kept her sister mostly in line.

Idunn woke at the sound of a slip, a fall, and two muffled girlish giggles. "What is it?" she asked, sitting upright in the bed.

"Anna can't sleep during the skylights anymore than I can," Agdar said, dryly. "And she thinks we don't know when they leave bed."

The queen sighed, yawned. "I'll bring them back."

"Nonsense, we'll do it together in a few minutes." He allowed a small smile. "If we must be the villains of their little play, for the sake of order, there is still no cause to take _all_ their fun."

Idunn began twisting her hair up. "Kai will not be happy when he finds the secondary ballroom full of snowmen tomorrow."

"Elsa will charm the scowl right off his face," Agdar said, a hint of pride in his smile.

The smile lasted until he finished the letter. Until there was a screaming of Anna's name, and then echoing through the halls, "Mama! Papa!"

Self-delusion is a common affliction of royals, and often it is never shaken. No matter how strange and selfish the world they create around them, it is easy to pretend that it's normal - who among their staff would ever say otherwise. So it is easy for a King to be calm and unconcerned about sorcery in his heir that has not been seen for a thousand years, no matter how much the Bishop protested on her birth day.

Yet even among royals, immunity against the harsh reality of the wider world doesn't last forever. For Agdar, it all came crashing down when he saw the tiny lifeless body of his daughter, cradled by the older child, in a wilderness of winter that should never have existed on a late-summer night.

What words were there to say? What was there to do but embrace the madness of ancient legends, once researched with curiosity and now recalled with only suspicion and fear.

"She's ice cold," Idunn whispered, and could have meant either of the girls.

Agdar hardened his heart against it. "I know where we have to take her."

-o-

"I have often asked that question," the troll said after Agdar's answer. His voice sounded harsh, unnatural. Rocks scraping together and barely sounding like words. "Out of habit more than any other reason. There has not been a child _born_ with magic in these lands for hundreds of years."

"But she was," the King said, almost spitting the words. Elsa's tiny hand gripped more tightly to the tail of his coat.

Idunn remembered a child so small, so beautiful, when her magic was just a few snowflakes dancing above her cradle and it was...well, magical. She remembered when they didn't listen to frightened advisors (whether religious or political). Magic had come into the world again, but this was as innocent as could be. Not _sorcery_, no, just magic. Like the stories. Perhaps they had been too young themselves to know of the full import of such matters. Agdar with his beard still scarce with young manhood, and Idunn herself trailing a couple years behind him.

Young fools with power and pride and the blindness of parenthood.

Now they stood before this creature of the mountain and it was warm here, but Idunn still shivered and clutched Anna to her breast.

"And she cannot reverse it," the troll said again in his eldritch voice. It was not a question.

"I don't know how," Elsa spoke up, trembling but composed - still in shock of what was happening. "It always went away before, when I wasn't even thinking. Only sometimes it didn't...it just melted...later. I thought I could control it enough." Her whole body trembled and Idunn wished her husband would wrap his arm around their girl. This wasn't her fault yet; it was theirs for being complacent.

"I cannot speak too much of mortal magic," the troll declared.

"But my daughter Anna," Agdar said, stiff with impatience. "Elsa cannot undo the hurt. Can you?"

The troll's eyes looked hollow, then, not really like eyes at all. Its words crumbled out like gravel, "It will not be easy to persuade the human mind to release this magic. There are risks. But it is possible."

"Risks?"

The creature sighed like thunder. "It is beyond your mortal knowledge in this age, but I will explain as I can. The magic has struck so that it is tied to her memory - but also to her emotion. They are connected in her mind, in impossibly intricate ways. It may be that I can pull the magic and only the memory with it. If she is lucky, she will forget just a day or two. But I cannot help but pull joy and love as well, for she did not fear the magic before being struck. If she does not already feel deeply, which is not for certain with children so young, that removal may leave a scar. Even a permanent one."

Idunn spoke then, feeling her legs grow weak. "Anna might not...feel?"

The troll shrugged. "You came to me quickly. I doubt the magic has spread so far. And if she is a loving child, the scar may not damage any further growth at all. It will be as if there was no harm. It is a risk, but not a grave one."

King and Queen held a glance.

"Do it," Agdar said.

Even in sleep, Anna flinched when the troll's magic passed through her skull and pulled something white and shiny out. Still clinging to her father, Elsa let out a cry and turned her face into his coat.

"The magic is gone," said the troll at last. Its tone made Idunn shiver. "So far as I can tell. But she must be kept away from it until her mind fully heals."

"She will." Agdar nodded, and laid a hand over Elsa's shoulder.

"As for you, child." The troll stepped forward, creaking, and took Elsa's hand.

She looked so small, so fragile, and yet nothing was that simple. Even Elsa knew that, and stared straight into those horrible hollow eyes.

"Your power will only grow. I cannot teach you how to control it; only you can find the key to mastery. But I can tell you that fear will be your enemy throughout your journey. Magic, being rare, is not fondly regarded. It will be difficult to avoid fear, but it is a necessity, child. Your power has beauty but there is also deadly danger in it."

Elsa did not see it, staring intently at the troll, but Idunn saw Agdar shift as the troll called magic beautiful. His jaw twitched and she wondered where the calm had gone. Where was the man who defied church and country and embraced the legend in his tiny daughter and heir?

Gone, she supposed. Gone with Anna's safety.

Elsa had tears in her eyes, but she nodded politely. "I will learn," she said, a promise, and looked up to father and then mother. There was stubbornness in her, and desperation. And guilt, also, the weight of which made her shoulders sag.

They left the mountains with a warm Anna, and an Elsa who no longer left an ice trail behind them. But even before the palace gates closed behind their horses, Idunn felt the shift in the air. Those youthful happy days were gone, and it would take a good deal of work to bring them back.

"We speak of this to no one," Agdar said, but mostly to Elsa. "Anna is young and will forget, but you cannot let her, Elsa. You'll understand when you're older."

Elsa nodded obediently.

Idunn could see in her eyes, though, that Elsa understood more than she ever should have. She felt her heart crack a little, but she swallowed the lump in her throat and tucked the girls to bed.

-o-

There were no more late-night trips to the secondary ballroom. There were no more snowmen left for Kai to clean up.

-o-

"But I don't remember," Anna kept protesting. This had to be a trick. Maybe they were planning a surprise party and they didn't want her to see, but keeping her in _bed_ was not fair.

"You hurt your head and that's why you can't remember," said Nursie pointedly, giving Anna the teensiest shove back under the covers. "Rest, your highness. Don't want to have another accident."

If this was all for a surprise party then Anna was determined to disapprove on principle. No party was worth this. Unless there was a chocolate cake. Hmm. Well, _then_ she'd be lenient.

She obeyed and stayed in bed a fatiguing amount of minutes - 37 and a half - before sneaking out to find Elsa with the plan of tickling her until she revealed the plot.

Her sister wasn't in all the usual haunts, however, and when Anna did catch sight of her at last, Elsa only gave Anna a sad look and disappeared into her bedroom. She even closed the door. Anna had to swallow a funny feeling in her midsection at that, and trudged back to her room to think about it.

"Did I really hit my head?" she demanded of the servant who came to bring her lunch.

The woman blanched momentarily, then nodded. "Yes, your highness. You fell a long way and the whole house was scared you were going to be badly injured."

Anna deflated at that, for there was no world in which even the servants would tell this kind of cruel story. With that in mind, she used her fingers to probe her scalp and - ouch - there was indeed a sore and swollen spot. It was even visible when she hopped up on the bench and looked at her reflection in the mirror.

And some of her hair was white, in a perfect little stripe. It looked kind of...dashing. But it was opposite to her sore spot so it couldn't be some kind of amazing hair scar. Maybe she'd had more than one injury.

Excited at this notion, she hopped off her bed and ran to Elsa's room. Elsa would know. That must be why she was sad, she'd been worried for Anna. Silly Elsa, really, since Anna was fine now.

Funnily, this time Elsa's door was open. Anna peeked in and was surprised to see her mother sitting on the edge of Elsa's bed. Her _frozen_ bed. Why would Elsa freeze her sheets? Magic wasn't good for things like cloth. Mother must be explaining that to her. Anna listened hard, but silently.

"You need to eat, my dear," Mother said in a soft voice.

"I don't want to. I feel sick."

And sounded it too – Elsa's voice was all sniffly. That explained things, Anna thought, but Mother didn't seem to agree.

"Elsa, everyone knows it was an accident. Even Anna. You don't need to feel badly about it."

Elsa made a choking sound, though, and Anna realized that she had been crying. Elsa, _crying_. "But I hurt her," she said in a small voice that Anna could barely hear. "Nobody told her that, did they."

Anna blinked. They weren't making sense. What was going on?

"Shh, shh," Mother said and combed her fingers through Elsa's hair. "Sweet child, everything will be all right. You won't do it again. I know you, Elsa. You'll control it better now. We were lucky to have this warning. But if you stay in here and cry all day, nothing will get better."

Had Elsa hurt Anna? How? Anna didn't believe it. Elsa wouldn't. How _could_ she, anyway, unless she'd called Anna a very bad name and Anna couldn't think of a way to accidentally do that. Though she couldn't remember _how_ she'd gotten hurt on the head...

Maybe Elsa had tripped and knocked Anna into a bookshelf or something. She didn't need to cry, though. Anna was fine now. Who cared about a couple lost memories and a sore spot?

Elsa didn't move or say anything for a few seconds, then said in the same sniffly voice. "I'm scared. They said not to be, but I am."

Mother pulled Elsa into her arms then. "I know, my dear. But we will all be fine. Together. You'll feel better if you get up and eat, I promise. Maybe visit Anna and bring her some dessert? It's her favorite tonight."

That only made Elsa cry again, and Anna still didn't know _why_ it was so bad. It was confusing and it made her head hurt a bit.

"Shh, shh, it's all right. It's not so bad that it needs all these tears. Calm down, sweet child."

"I _can't_."

Now Anna wanted to cry too, for some reason. She gulped down the lump in her throat. Too hard, though - Mother heard and turned her head. A little shake of Mother's head told Anna that she should go, and so she did, running on almost-wobbly feet.

It didn't make sense at _all_.

Anna went down to supper when called, and expected an explanation, but Elsa wasn't there and no one talked much, to her or anyone.

That night she didn't sleep, but not because of all the fun. It must have been magic, she decided, that hurt her. She probably slipped on Elsa's ice. That would be scary, she admitted, especially for Elsa. She had to be responsible, being the oldest. But Anna was fine now, so Mother was right. It would be okay now.

Finally she could bear it no longer and ran out and down the hall to knock on Elsa's door. Normally she'd just sneak in, but nothing was really _normal_ right now. The knocking sounded hollow and echoed in the hall, which reminded Anna that Elsa usually slept at this time of night. She probably wasn't even awake to answer.

Still, there was a desperate feeling rising up in Anna's chest and she couldn't make herself worry about Elsa's sleep. She knocked again, louder, and added a fourth knock just to be sure.

Surprisingly, the door opened a crack.

"Hi," Anna whispered, hands clasped. She hadn't planned words ahead of time but they came out quickly all the same. "I know you've been sad and I know it's because I got hurt, but I wanted to let you know that it's _okay_, even if it was your magic. I still love your snow, and you, and I'm feeling a lot better now. Really."

Elsa chewed her lip, eyes shiny and swollen-ish. She didn't look very comforted, or very anything, and that wasn't right. "Anna, we need to be sleeping."

The desperate feeling swelled in Anna's chest, making her ribs hurt in a weird way, and she blurted, "But it's okay! I love you! We can play in the snow and I'll just be really careful and it'll still be fun."

Elsa flinched, her eyes suddenly wide. "No, Anna, no we can't. Not _ever_."

"Why?" Anna felt like she would explode with this anxious, confused feeling. Or maybe cry, if Elsa didn't stop being so strange, so not-Elsa, because it was getting kind of _scary_.

"We can't play anymore," Elsa said, all wobbly and too-loud like she was afraid, "not ever, okay, because I could _kill_ you." Then her whole face fell to pieces, the door closed, and Anna heard a muffled sob behind it as if Elsa was in pain.

Killed? It made no _sense_. Anna had just been a bit hurt, she wasn't going to die, _why was everyone so sad when she was _fine? Despite all her efforts, hot tears spilled down her cheeks and she pounded on the door. "Elsa, please don't go away. I don't understand, I don't _believe_ you, Elsa. Elsa, Elsa, please..."

She kept knocking at the door and crying frantic tears until her father came and pulled her gently away. "Anna, you should be sleeping."

Anna couldn't stand his calm voice, not now. "But something's wrong with Elsa, something's all wrong! She's not going to kill me, she's not!" Tears were blinding her eyes and her father was a blur.

Even so, she could see that he was sad too, and stern, and all those things that fathers were that made you listen and obey. "I know that, Anna. We'll talk about this after you and Elsa rest, understand?"

"But why?" Anna begged, even as he took her hand and led her to her room.

"We'll talk in the morning," he said firmly, and kissed her forehead. "Your sister's upset right now, and so are you, and talking when you're upset only makes it worse."

Maybe he was right, maybe he was wrong, Anna couldn't think. She could only think of the fear and sadness in Elsa's eyes, and those horribly scary words, and how Elsa had _sobbed_ after she shut the door. Anna just didn't understand why, and now the bump on her head felt sore, so she cried into her pillow until she fell asleep.

She slept so deeply, she didn't even hear Elsa cry out, nor Mother running down the halls to comfort her, whispering over and over, "It's just a nightmare, my dear. Just a nightmare."

-o-

If this was what magic truly was, then it was a curse indeed, Idunn told herself in secret. A week since the incident and the palace still felt like a funeral had taken place. Part of her thought it was too much fuss - the other part felt tendrils of despair wrap around her heart, the same heart that hadn't quite healed from the crack of seeing her daughters so hurt.

The shock had faded, at least. Agdar hadn't shown signs of it but Elsa had truly scared Idunn. For nearly five days she'd alternated from blank expressions to panic and grief and self-loathing. It was simply shock, the doctor told them, and it would pass. But she was so young, so very young, and to be nearly responsible for death was a weight that not even a grown person could carry easily. Idunn barely slept, so she was awake to catch every nightmare and run to cradle Elsa close, ignoring the frozen sheets, frozen floor, frozen fingers gripping Idunn's gown and spreading frost across the fabric.

Anna didn't understand death as easily as Elsa, so it had been easier on her. She had felt Elsa's pain, of course, as sisters did, and cried miserably for days. But it wasn't so serious to her. At least she'd stayed in bed, though, and her head seemed to be mended now. Idunn kept touching her hair, glad that she was warm and no longer like ice (never again, god, please never again) though wondering why the pale stripe hadn't faded. It tugged at her heart even among all her greater worries.

And then there was Agdar, who had buried away all feelings where even Idunn couldn't find them. She knew he must be worried and heartbroken, and unsure about the future. She knew, but he wouldn't talk.

After the first night when Elsa had panicked and half-convinced Anna that she was a murderess, it was clear that they needed to talk about it as a family. Agdar pushed Elsa to explain what happened, correcting her along the way when she made the events sound too severe. He was good with her, Idunn thought. Firm but kind.

Anna accepted it all quite well, smiling at Elsa and then trying to hug her. Elsa cringed, though, and Idunn pulled Anna back.

Then they talked about the new rules.

"Magic isn't a toy," Agdar had told the girls in a low voice. "We all know that now. There's no need to fear it, though, so long as we're all very careful."

Elsa had looked up, then. "Especially me."

"Yes," Agdar said, but gently. "And that will be easier if we keep it a secret."

"Why?" asked Anna.

"Because the less Elsa uses magic, and the less people know about it, there's little chance of further accident. Out of sight, out of mind, out of danger."

Elsa nodded slowly, her hands folded into tight little fists, but Anna said loudly, "But I like her magic. I don't see why we can't play just because of one accident."

"Anna," Agdar rebuked. "You were hurt. You could have been hurt much, much worse, in ways that couldn't be fixed. Like I said, magic is not a toy. We made a mistake in letting you two do so much with it before."

"But…" Anna trailed off, face falling.

"Other people aren't like you, Anna," Idunn put in with a smile, quickly, before it became a battle of wills. "They haven't seen how beautiful Elsa's magic is. They don't understand, and we can't expect them to. No one else has magic like Elsa - they might be scared of her, even if she's very careful. It's safer to keep it secret. And if you two are always playing with magic, someone might see and be scared and cause trouble for our whole family. Do you understand?"

No, she didn't. Anna seemed to think it was all very unfair, considering that they were _princesses_ and that meant people had to listen to what _they_ thought. That particular comment led to an entire lecture from Agdar about responsibility and obligation, accompanied by his furrowed brow and stern glance. Throughout, Idunn couldn't help but notice Elsa shrinking away, drawing into herself until it was as if she was no longer there.

Finally Anna accepted the new rules.

"It's for the best," Agdar said at last, and smiled. It didn't quite reach his eyes, but Idunn could see that he was trying.

The girls nodded and Anna again attempted a sisterly hug. This time Elsa didn't push her away, but her eyes widened in near-panic all the same and she didn't fully return it. Idunn's heart cracked a little more.

All that had taken place days ago, however, and yet no one was _happy_ again. Anna tried her best, being so cheery that Idunn was fully reassured that no harm had been done to her ability to feel. Elsa and Agdar, though, seemed caught in a cycle of brooding that did none of them good. It was all over, after all. Frightening, but _over_.

When it snowed in Arendelle at last, after a long rainy autumn, Idunn told Anna to get her sister and go play. "Make snowmen without magic," she encouraged. "There's enough snow for a dozen at least."

Only a half hour later she was pleased to hear laughter. From _both_ girls. Idunn watched the gleeful play from the window and allowed herself a small smile. Elsa seemed to have no problems of control when she was occupied and happy, and that was a very, very good portent.

Elsa and Anna came in that evening red-faced and giggling, and even Agdar's comments about tracking snow through the halls did not break their cheery moment. They looked so bright and beautiful as they sipped hot chocolate and talked about names for their army of snowmen.

Yet Idunn hoped too much too soon. The next morning Anna woke late, still red-faced but now due to a fever. "Too much play in the cold," the doctor pronounced, "it's nothing."

Anna grumbled to everyone who would listen about the unfairness of being sick, especially when the doctor said that she could eat no chocolate until she got well, but she was too sick to disobey any orders. Elsa seemed to think it was her fault, for keeping Anna too long in the snowy courtyard, and Idunn could not _bear_ to see her like that again. She all but ordered Elsa to sit by Anna's bed and read books to her, hoping it would distract them both.

It did, and they both ate a supper of broth together in peace.

Idunn went to kiss Anna goodnight and found her forehead chill, which she took to mean that the fever would be breaking soon. Elsa had fallen asleep with her face in a book, leaned against the side of the bed with her left hand gripping Anna's right. Idunn didn't have the heart to separate them. She kissed Elsa's head too and then left for her own chamber.

Only a few hours later came Elsa's terrified cries of "Mama! Papa!"

The world crashed around her, ripping open the not-quite-healed memories. Idunn ran, heart in her throat, Agdar at her side, fear like a dark monster at her heels. It was too soon for this, too soon.

In Anna's room, Elsa clung to Anna's hand with both of hers, her whole body shaking and the floor slick with ice. "Anna's too hot," she said desperately when King and Queen came in. "She's too hot but her head is so _cold_." Then a broken whisper, "I think she's freezing again."

Idunn wanted this to be a nightmare, something to be soothed away by simply waking up. But once touch of Anna's forehead and one look at her whitening hair, and she knew she was fully awake.

Agdar breathed in sharply as he lifted Anna into his arms, confirming the malady as being far more than a normal illness. Beside him, hands tucked beneath her armpits, Elsa trembled with fear. For a moment no one moved, as if taking the first step would be signing their doom.

"We have to take her back to the trolls," Idunn finally said. The last bit of hope was gone from her voice - her heart cracked just a bit further.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Notes**__: I'm incorporating some historical and political aspects this chapter, but I've drawn from a lot of different sources with my research and am still maintaining Arendelle as a fantasy country. Just like with the dialogue, it's not going to be 100% historically accurate. Sorry to any history buffs reading. Oh, and this isn't going to be about Elsa and Anna as children for the entire story, in case anyone was wondering. Thanks to everyone who reviewed and followed! I really appreciate that other people like the story I'm creating so far.  
><em>

* * *

><p>This time the trolls didn't answer to his call. He was a king, he was saying <em>please<em>, and still the rocks lay still. Irritation tinged the second call, concealed anger the third, but desperation came with the fourth. Anna's hair had a thicker stripe this time and the cold was spreading through her, wiping out the winter-induced fever.

His daughter was dying and his royal status was useless to protect her. Elsa, his eldest, stood at his side like before, but she would not touch him. As if it was her fault this time, instead of these creatures and their failure to heal Anna.

He called for the trolls again with a hoarsening voice, and this time the stone came to life with a sigh that shook the earth beneath his feet.

"What is it this day, your majesty?"

"Her head. Look at it." Agdar beckoned for Idunn to carry Anna forward.

The troll seemed to grind its teeth at the sight, glaring up at him. "I warned you to keep her away from the cold."

"You said keep her from _magic,_" he snarled at the thing, patience gone.

"And of course, you mortals know so little of magic or your own fragile bodies." The troll, though small, had enough disdain in its words to make Elsa take a step back. "So you failed to listen to anything not stated directly in words. She was still healing and you let her get _cold_. Illness sparks any magic that lingers in fresh wounds, and you invited it upon her."

The words fell harshly on the cool air and Agdar had no direct response. He breathed, hard.

"Is she going to die?" Elsa asked in a small voice.

Such a small girl, with such a mixture of fear and courage. If only he wasn't so frustrated, he would have felt pride yet again.

Somehow, the troll's eyes softened. "No, I will do what I can. But the scar will be worse. There can be no more cold for her, not for many weeks."

But she wouldn't die. That was what mattered.

Idunn looked as pale as Elsa when she brought Anna forward. She held their daughter's hand tightly - both daughters' hands when Elsa stepped forward. Agdar swallowed the lump in his throat and laid a hand over Idunn's shoulder. They waited together.

This time Anna cried out in her cold sleep, and the magic came out more slowly. The troll pulled something else, something that didn't look as icy, and twisted it a half dozen times before placing his hand over Anna's forehead and letting it seep back into her skull. The white of her hair began to fade slowly, if not completely.

"What was that?" Agdar demanded.

"Cleansed memories of magic," the troll said, and even though he stroked Anna's hair it still seemed harsh. "Her memories will be vague and hard to recall now, where magic is concerned, and she might remember only ordinary experiences with snow unless prompted. Which you should not do. I cannot take all the magic out now, not with the wound having grown deeper, though that _would_ be safer in case of further injuries. Even as it is, she will have distressed feelings at least until her mind heals again. Any more cleansing and the damage would be...unpredictable."

It was of no comfort, even when spoken in words that he _should_ know. The troll was right, they knew almost nothing of the human mind. How could they judge what magic would or would not do?

Once, oddly, Elsa's powers had seemed insignificant. Everyone spoke of witches, even though no one knew one personally or for sure. Magic was exaggerated in legend; the truth was just much smaller, surely. His daughter wasn't terrifying, he told himself for eight years. She wasn't _that_ different, he said even as he kept the palace staff small, and squashed any gossip about Elsa.

Truthfully, he always thought it would just pass, and the story would end with Elsa being a normal human child. A ridiculous thought, but it had sustained him in all the madness.

But witches and trolls and powerful sorcery tangled in his life all the same, denying him any frivolous thoughts that separated reality from dreams. The world had not prepared him for this nightmarish existence.

"Keep her warm and let her heal," the troll said sharply, then disappeared back into the boulders of the valley.

Idunn wrapped Anna more tightly in the blanket, her breathing unsteady, and rose to her feet.

Their daughter would live. She was safe, as long as they didn't fail her again. "Come, Elsa," Agdar said softly. "We can go home now."

She clung to him on the way home, and not just to keep from falling. He felt the chill through his jacket; he said nothing. Anna would be in bed for weeks, and that was enough time to train Elsa with no distractions.

She would learn quickly, he had no doubt. She always had.

-o-

Anna slept a lot longer this time and no one told Elsa when she did finally wake up. They did tell her, when she asked, that Anna couldn't remember the snowmen they'd made in the courtyard, nor the sickness that followed. Her sister was, she was told with a sigh when she asked yet again, confused and sleepy and hadn't asked for Elsa specifically.

Elsa thought she deserved that. Mother and Father assured her that they didn't blame her for Anna's condition, but that _had_ to be the twisted kind of adult speech that Elsa would call lying but her tutor called either "diplomacy" or "it's complicated, your highness". They certainly hadn't explained how it was anyone _else's_ fault - like perhaps Elsa had been cursed from birth by an evil faerie and that was why her magic was so dangerous.

But she knew that was false. It was her responsibility alone.

She knew what that meant, too. Father hadn't exactly told her to stay away from Anna, but it was all implied. On top of her sums, history, economics, dance, and speaking lessons, he'd added a new tutor for her: himself.

"There are no magic tutors," he'd said shortly, as Father so often did these days. He wore a face that was just like the one her speaking tutor told her to practice. The king's face, she dubbed it. "And even if there were, yours is...different." He'd tried to hide a grimace but Elsa saw it in his eyes. "We have to find out your limits together, Elsa, and then _use _them."

He said _together,_ so that was nice. More time with Father was what she'd always wanted, but the word sounded empty this time. It just wasn't the way he used to say it. Though this was punishment, so of course it was different. They had to learn magic together because she'd failed. Elsa nodded.

Father kissed her head before sending her off to her other lessons, but she had hesitated for a while, staring at her fingers for a long time. They looked normal, all small and pink. No snowflakes anywhere. How could they have caused so much trouble? The troll had to be right. The magic came from her head, and there must be something wrong in there if she couldn't control it. Well, Father would teach her how. He never lost control like she did, magic or not.

Elsa tucked her hands under her armpits, then remembered her posture and shook them loose, and went to her other lessons as usual.

Nobody said anything about what happened to Anna but Elsa noticed the weird looks. She, also, didn't say anything. Father said it was a secret, even if it wasn't _really_. They all just pretended it was. These days required a lot of pretending, and thankfully people had been teaching her to do that ever since she could talk.

It was so _much _pretending, though. Elsa tried very hard not to cry anymore, since that was weakness and a princess must never show that, and anyway people said Anna was healing just fine and so things weren't that bad. But most days not-crying took a lot more effort than it should. Everyone told her that she should have good spirits again, but somehow she didn't and it was frustrating. Happiness was out there, somewhere, she knew - she'd had it before, even when Anna was too little for them to play together. But she couldn't find it now and she couldn't remember where she might look for it. She could only pretend she did, since that made everyone smile so proudly at her.

But then, when she went for supper, Anna was there, walking on her own even if a nurse was leading her by the hand. Forgetting her manners Elsa rushed forward, crying "Anna!" She remembered all the rules only just in time to not hug her sister, clasping her hands at her waist so there would be no shooting ice.

Anna didn't remember the rules enough, it seemed. "I _missed_ you!" she said, all but flinging herself at Elsa. "It was so boring and I was lonely, even if Mama did come so many times to see me."

"Children, supper," Father called from the head of the table.

Elsa untangled herself from the hug, but a grin had snuck onto her face that no manners could hide. She wasn't frustrated now.

Anna let out a long sigh once they were all seated. "_Real_ food. And chocolate for dessert, right?"

"We'll see," Mother said, but she was smiling too. Even Father, a little.

For all that she looked a bit pale, Anna spoke as if nothing had ever gone wrong. And since no one else was in a talking mood, she went on practically uninterrupted. "Oh, Elsa, I don't have to do _any_ lessons until I get my balance back. Because that's when I'm healed, I guess. It's not really fun, though, because I can't go outside without getting a headache and I'm not allowed to go in the library on my own. Nursie brought books but just the ones with pictures, not any of the good stories. I don't like head sickness at _all_ and I know you're busy with lessons but you should visit me on Sunday, because I know you don't have lessons that day. We _used_ to play on days when you had lessons, though, so I don't know why you're leaving me alone. I don't sleep all day anymore, you know. I made a huge tower out of blocks but I'm not tall enough to reach to the top so I really need you. Maybe if you read all your books really _fast_, you'll be done with lessons in time to play with me..."

"Anna, remember that this is supper," Father said, dry but warm. "Don't forget to eat."

"Or breathe," Mother said with a twitch of her lips.

"But I'm not supposed to talk with food in my mouth," Anna protested. "So if I eat—"

"That's the point, my dear," Mother said, almost a laugh.

Anna missed the joke, but began eating supper all the same.

Elsa ducked her head, feeling like her middle was full of butterflies and sunshine. For a moment, she felt happy.

Only a moment, though, for Anna nearly fell over when leaving the table and they all jumped. "Whoa, too fast," Anna said, and simply held onto Nursie's hand all the way out of the room. Yet it was enough to break the mood - Mother and Father shared looks that made the feeling in Elsa's middle twist back into something dark and cold, like a pile of half-melted snow in a dirty corner.

Elsa kept her hands tucked under her elbows and her head low when she walked back to her own room.

-o-

Arendelle has always been a small kingdom, barely half the size of Corona - and even Corona is dwarfed by all but the Southern Isles among Arendelle's trading partners. It is a realm where, only a few generations past, the entire population could have theoretically fit into the palace, grounds, and outer courtyard. Gentry and commonfolk maintained their separate spheres, of course, but the royalty of Arendelle understood well that their role was more as figurehead than actual leader. Everyone knew their business and just how small a speck they were on the grand map of affairs, despite having enough wealth and history to warrant at least one war in the past and many trading partners in the present.

Arendelle royalty, which for the last thousand years had been of the family of Treschow, had always maintained a reasonable amount of pride, which mixed with generosity and open palace gates provided a pleasant atmosphere in the realm. Outwardly, all this appeared natural and easy. Yet for someone like Queen Idunn, used to the rather more volatile political style of Corona, every calculated scheme stood out like the very rosemaling in the palace itself. The ease of Arendelle was designed and came only with work and dedication.

For such a small realm and so few allies to worry about, Idunn still found herself ever-busy with matters relating to the realm. This distracted her from the trials of motherhood, whether she appreciated that or not. She and Agdar had, just after Elsa's birth, decided to follow their hearts rather than their own parents and take a more hands-on approach with their children. Every scrap of free time in those first couple years had been spent with Elsa. Perhaps, she wondered in hindsight, that was why they forgot just how strange her magic was.

This strategy had done no good. It had only stretched them too thin, and the country had suffered, so they had pulled back just after Anna's birth. And when the girls were healthy, up until recently, it had been a reasonable arrangement. With the chaos of the last few weeks, however, Idunn felt the true weight of the crown for a parent.

Today, she'd barely even finished her royal duties when the doctor wanted to see her. About Anna. Her mother's worries took priority then, even if her outwardly appearance stayed composed and regal.

"The girl won't stay abed, though that's nothing new," said Doctor Malson, a large man with white hair that had once been golden. He had been with Agdar's family for three generations now. "I hope you'll come up with a suitable punishment if she does not comply. With head injuries, even the usual kind, it is imperative that the child avoid all further trauma. And in the princess' case…"

"Yes?" Idunn narrowed her glance.

"I have given her a series of verbal tests of intelligence," the doctor said, hesitance hanging around the edges of his words. "It is not uncommon for children struck in the head to be left simpletons. Anna is not one as of yet, but she was only struck once, so that is normal. Though she is, I fear, not completely unscathed in regards to wits. I hesitate to say she will have a weak mind...but for now, I advise you to be strict and cautious with her health and education."

Idunn nodded once, though her heart ached strongly in her chest. Each trial her girls faced seemed to go straight there, deepening the crack that familial pain had caused. Anna had to heal if Idunn was ever to do so.

God forbid, though, that she heal only in body and not mind. God forbid that she become yet another secret of the family. The entire Treschow dynasty in Arendelle might fall apart in an instant, if out of both heirs one was a magician and the other a simpleton.

"Also," Doctor Malson added after a moment's pause. "His Majesty asked me to examine the elder princess as well."

Idunn came sharply back to the present, wondering if he'd guessed her line of thought. "Why? You said you had no experience in magic."

Never had the doctor looked more uncomfortable. "Of course not. My only experience with witches is hearing colleagues decry them as competition in small villages, when it comes to healing the sick." He snorted, shifting his weight. "But given the odd situation I find myself in now, I must try to use my talents in unexpected ways. Princess Elsa has been greatly distraught because of her sister, even after the hysteria of shock faded. This manifests through involuntary magic, or so you have been told." By trolls, hardly medical experts, was the subtext of _that_ remark. The doctor continued. "I had another theory, though. A weak heart, I speculated, shocked by trauma, could lead to anxiety and malaise such as Princess Elsa has been exhibiting."

Idunn tucked her hands in her lap, refusing to worry just yet. "And?"

"I was wrong on that subject." Malson let out a long breath. "I did every possible examination of Princess Elsa's physical health. Despite the constant chill temperature around her, she is in prime health. A little fatigued, but that can be blamed on her recurrent nightmares. Her heart is strong. Which means, I'm afraid, that your magical experts were correct."

"Why are you mentioning all this?" Idunn asked, relieved and yet feeling that the second shoe had not been dropped.

"I also gave Princess Elsa the same intelligence tests as her sister," Doctor Malson said bluntly. "At His Majesty's request. I fear that this childhood hysteria is more than the cause of her magical difficulties. Though her test results show nothing yet, I fear that she, like her sister, might suffer weakness of mind after this trauma."

"Enough." Idunn clenched her hands to keep them from visibly trembling and rose from her seat. Her height was less than the doctor's, but she stood tall and stiff and eyed him with the authority she'd been born to. "No more of this. Elsa is only a little distressed and insecure. With our help, she will grow up as if it never happened, I assure you. And I command that you neither speak nor think more on this matter. There is no need to spread unfounded rumors of this kind, and you know it."

Doctor Malson left with only a look, not another word.

Idunn sank back to the chair and rested her face in her palms. This couldn't be. Not after so many happy years with their girls. No, it couldn't be like this. The world could not be so cruel as to bring down Elsa and Anna both. Agdar had a strong mind, so did Idunn. Their children would also and everyone would see it. Perhaps not Anna, not fully, but that would not be Idunn's fault. Childhood injuries happened. Two children? No, it wouldn't happen.

Elsa would grow strong again and Idunn would not be blamed for anything. And they would all be happy. They _must_ be happy, all of them.

-o-

Elsa promised at every supper that she was trying very hard to finish all her lessons in time to play with Anna. Of course Anna believed her, but it wasn't something she was overjoyed about. Being mostly-bedridden was _horrible_, especially when she would be alone for hours and suddenly be sad for no reason, and there wasn't even Elsa to hug. Mama would show up occasionally, but never for very long, and Papa was always busy with Elsa. Which was why Elsa didn't come, Anna assumed.

It was even lonely in Anna's mind. Sometimes, especially when she was sad, Anna would forget things. She'd forget about chocolate, playing pranks with Elsa, and even Elsa's magic. Which was all very silly of Anna's brain to do, since all these things were _cures_ for sadness. Still, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't always remember them.

One day she got sad and frustrated at the same time and threw her soup at Nursie. It didn't help. She only felt sadder a few seconds later, got a scolding from Mama, Papa, _and_ Nursie - and still no Elsa.

From her bed, Anna could look outside and see all the autumn rain. Most days were rainy now, and the drops pattered against her window and made her feel trapped. Outside the whole world was drowning, but inside Anna didn't feel any better. She wished her head would hurry up and heal so things could be normal again.

Luckily enough, though, she didn't have to wait that long for a bit of normal-ness. Elsa finally showed up one evening, happy and ready to play.

It was just as perfect as Anna imagined it would be.

They read books, they acted out plays with their dolls, they painted, and Elsa even braided Anna's hair for her. They laughed and giggled and Anna forgot that she was sick at all.

Soon they were doing building blocks, since Elsa had _remembered_ how Anna wasn't tall enough to build the best towers. Anna got so distracted with the blocks that she didn't notice for a while that they couldn't hear rain anymore.

When she did notice the weather, it was the frosting on the cake - or maybe the chocolate drops on the frosting - for this wonderful day. "Look, it's _snowing!_" Anna leapt from their game and darted towards the window.

This time, though, what she'd forgotten was the dizziness, and she made it only three steps before the world turned upside down and she slipped and smashed into all the building blocks. A couple bit into her ribs and she groaned, squeezing her eyes shut for a second.

"Anna!" It was only a little fall, not even all the way to the floor, but Elsa looked scared. She ran over, not seeming to notice the snowflakes spreading from her feet to cover the floor in ice. Her hand reached for Anna's.

"Ugh, I'm okay," Anna said, not taking Elsa's hand and pulling herself up. It wasn't hard, even with Elsa's ice making everything slippery. Her sister still looked upset, just like their parents always did these days, so Anna added with a sheepish grin, "I just can't run straight sometimes."

"You need to be _careful_," Elsa breathed, reaching for and squeezing her sister's hands until Anna winced.

The crash had been loud, though. Papa burst in just seconds later, eyes wide and calling, "Elsa, what have you done!"

That was a weird thing to ask, Anna thought, but a feeling in her brain told her that she was forgetting something important.

Elsa pulled back her hands from Anna as if they'd been burned. "I didn't—"

"I just tripped," Anna explained with half a giggle. Laughter made people feel less scared, didn't it? "Today I'm just Dizzy Anna."

But Papa did not look like he heard. His expression turned ill as he saw the ice on the floor. "Elsa—"

Then Elsa went pale. "No, Papa, it wasn't me."

Anna felt - no, _knew_ - that she was missing something. But what? Why? Papa and Elsa looked so intense; it made her freeze as if Elsa _had_ hit her with magic.

Papa's face was somewhere between fear and anger as he knelt down and grabbed Elsa's shoulders. "Do you think I can't see the ice?" he demanded, practically shaking her. "You weren't paying attention. And once again it was _Anna_ who took the fall. Elsa I—"

"I didn't," Elsa said, almost wailing, tears streaming down her cheeks.

This was wrong, it was all wrong. Happiness gone, Anna's stomach clenched in sadness and frustration again. Before she thought twice she threw a block at her father's head. "Stop!" she demanded, breathing hard. "Stop, stop, stop!"

It worked. Papa looked up at her, letting go of Elsa's shoulders.

"She only froze the floor because she was _scared_," Anna said, and wiped her nose to get rid of the tears that were starting to leak out. "I fell because of my head, not because of Elsa. Why can't you leave her alone? She's fine, her magic is _fine_."

Anna didn't realize how loud she was until Mama came in too, and then she realized that she'd been screaming.

"Anna is fine," Papa said in a low voice, after Mama's anxious questions. "But—"

They said something in low voices, and then Mama swiftly took Papa out of the room. Elsa stayed, though. She sat on the floor with her arms wrapped tightly around her chest, tears still staining her cheeks.

Anna stumbled over and hugged her as tight as possible. "Please don't get upset every time I trip," she whispered. "I trip a lot, and that's too much sadness for anybody."

"Okay," Elsa said in a small voice, smaller than her. But she hugged Anna back, and even though it was so tight that it hurt, Anna let her do it without wincing even once.

They went back to building the tower after that, as Anna insisted. It was only half as happy as before, but it wasn't so bad. There was no more tripping and no more magic and Mama and Papa were strangely absent.

-o-

Most days, Idunn knew painfully well her place in this family. Somewhere a little higher than broodmare for the next heir, and even higher than many of the royal advisors, but many, many steps lower than the king of Arendelle. This land might look more kindly on women than others in the world, even allowing female rulers if they bore the birthright, but not her. Queen as she was, she was still only truly a wife and mother. And so she had no right to rebuke her husband, the rightful king.

Yet she did. This time she was so angry that she forgot everything she'd ever been taught. Fingers shaking with rage, she pulled him from Anna's room - and he submitted to it, at least for a few steps.

"This is on _you_," she hissed, so angry she could hardly see. "You hurt them, Agdar, and they were only playing. It was only the tiniest of accidents."

The hallway was dark, but enough candles were lit so that Agdar's eyes glowed. They narrowed, and she could hear rather than see the tightening of his jaw. "Elsa still doesn't understand the consequences of her actions. Do you want Anna to die because of such childish, wilful ignorance?"

Idunn shook her head, feeling miserable laughter swell in her throat. "You're a fool. Don't you see how terrified Elsa is? Don't you see in her eyes that every time Anna bears even a slight inconvenience, she takes it on herself?"

Agdar snorted. "Then why doesn't she learn?"

"I don't know!" Idunn did laugh, then, and it was empty. The laugh was like her heart, still so cracked that all the goodness ran out of it and left her truly barren. "But I cannot bear to see you scare her for it."

"It's not just about Anna…" he began, more weary than defensive.

"I know," Idunn whispered back, fiercely. "Everything is at stake, I _know_. But can you not spare even a moment to think of them as girls? Our daughters aren't grown yet, Agdar. We have so many things yet to try. Can't we hope that it'll all be fixed?" She felt her voice crack, her eyes sting.

Agdar might be the king, but he did not lose himself entirely in the role. Something fell, his shoulders or his heart, and he was for a time just her husband and the father of their children. He wrapped his arms around her and they stood embraced in the darkness. "I should not have spoken so to Elsa," he admitted at last. "It only made it worse."

Idunn nodded against his chest, grateful for the words.

"And tomorrow, I think…" he trailed off for a moment. "I am putting too much on Elsa without giving her any tools. Tomorrow, I think, I will have her wear the gloves. They should help. Until things get better."

Idunn nodded, unwilling to even question what the next step would be if things did not get any better.

-o-

Elsa had nightmares again, this time of standing over Anna's lifeless body while her father looked at her as if she was a monster, but she burrowed so deeply under her blankets that her cries would not wake either Mama or Papa. Anna was right. There was too much sadness. Elsa would hide it from everyone, for all their sakes.


End file.
